


Leap Before You Look

by Trufreak89



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternative Season 2, Blood and Injury, F/F, post 1x08
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-05-18 00:17:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trufreak89/pseuds/Trufreak89
Summary: Villanelle had finally stopped trying to fight her. She sat on the floor, slumped against Eve’s chest and struggling to catch her breath. “You… are… a dick.” She said in between pained gasps.





	1. Chapter 1

_Leap Before You Look_

_The sense of danger must not disappear:_   
_The way is certainly both short and steep,_   
_However gradual it looks from here;_   
_Look if you like, but you will have to leap._

   
  


“Oksana, please! Just let me help!” Eve hovered at the top of the stairs while Villanelle stood at the bottom, propped up against her mailbox.

She kept a gun in there for emergencies. It was shaking in her hand as she held it towards Eve. Villanelle fired off a single shot. The bullet tore into the wall a few inches from Eve’s head. A warning.

“Stay back! I will shoot you!” Villanelle growled at the older woman as she tried to take a step forward. She stood with her free hand pressed against her stomach, blood seeping through her fingers and pooling at her feet.

Villanelle was feeling light-headed. She couldn’t hold out much longer. The gun in her hand clattered to the floor as she grew too weak to grip it. She followed it, sinking to her knees.

Eve took her chance and rushed down the stairs towards her. Villanelle tried to push her away, leaving bloody handprints on Eve’s dark clothing. “Just let me help!” Eve slapped her hands down and pressed the dishcloth she was holding against the gaping wound in Vilanelle’s stomach.

She used her free hand to punch in the number for the French emergency services and tucked her phone against her ear with her shoulder as it rang out.

Villanelle had finally stopped trying to fight her. She sat on the floor, slumped against Eve’s chest and struggling to catch her breath. “You… are… a dick.” She said in between pained gasps.

Eve ignored her. She was through to an operator and busy giving the address of Vilanelle’s apartment. “Not here. Outside” Vilanelle grunted as she tried to stand. Her legs buckled beneath her.

“Lie still. Help is coming. You'll be okay. Just hold on, Oksana. Hold on.” Eve could hear the sirens in the distance.  
"Outside," Vilanelle repeated. "I can't have them search my apartment."

“Oh god…” Eve hadn’t considered what might have been hidden in the assassin’s home. Her only concern had been for Villanelle.

It took some effort, and a lot of pain on Vilanelle’s part, but the women made it through the lobby and on to the street. “Where the hell is that ambulance?” Eve glanced around wildly, clinging to the injured woman.

“I didn’t think you could do it…” Said Villanelle, catching Eve off guard as she let out a low chuckle. “You surprise me, Eve Polastri…”

“Shh.” Eve shushed her. “They’ll be here any second. They will patch you up and you can do whatever twisted thing you can imagine paying me back, okay? Just hold on.”

“I will die.” Vilanelle coughed. She winced at the pain. “That will show you…”

“No!” Eve protested. She clung to the younger woman, the towel pressed against her stomach soaked right through with red. “You are not dying on me, Oksana! Do you hear me? You’re not getting off that easy!”

“I was trying to get off before you stabbed me…” Even when bleeding out she was still a prick. At least if she was talking she was breathing. Until Villanelle fucked that up too.  
  
“Oksana? Oksana!”

Hours later Eve sat in a hard plastic chair by the hospital bed of a woman named Julie Babineaux. This was the name Oksana used to rent her apartment. Eve had given it to the paramedics.

The police were on the way.

Villanelle had a blatant stab wound, and Eve had been too frantic to make up a story when the paramedics arrived. She had lied and said she came across Julie stumbling out of her front door, bleeding profusely and clutching her stomach.

It had bought her time, but the police would want specifics. They'd ask who Eve was to Julie? Why was she at her place? Who had any reason to hurt her? These questions would be impossible to answer without digging herself into a deeper hole.

She could always tell them the truth. That she was a former MI5 analyst hired for an off-book operation to track an international assassin. They’d lock her up and throw away the key without her even admitting she had stabbed her.

Oksana looked small and frail lying in that hospital bed. She had Crisp white sheets pulled up to her chin. They made the cuts and bruises on her face stand out in stark contrast.

Eve hated hospitals. She hated the chemical smell of them and the incessant beeping of the various machines. Yet the steady beeps of the heart monitor they had Villanelle hooked up to were music to her ears.

She was alive.

The doctors had taken her in for surgery. They replaced four pints of blood and stitched her up. The rest was up to Villanelle. Eve could only wait.

She reached out, taking one of Oksana’s cold hands in her own. She rubbed her thumb absently over the back of her hand. “I bet you’re loving this.” Eve sighed out loud. She wasn’t sure if she could hear her, but she’d read somewhere that it was good to talk to people when they were under.

The doctors had sedated Villanelle before the surgery and given her something to keep her out for the rest of the night. It would give her body time to heal and minimize the chances of her popping any stitches if she woke in a blind panic.

“You had me shitting myself when you stopped breathing. I thought…” Eve’s voice broke. She paused and took a breath. “Thought I’d killed you. I didn’t mean to… I mean, yes I meant to stab you, but only because you told me I couldn’t do it… God that’s fucked up. I’m fucked up.”

Eve fell silent as a nurse walked in. She gave her a kind smile as she checked Villanelle’s stats and made a note. She stood at the door and asked, “Puis-je t'offrir quelque chose à boire?”

Eve stared vacantly at her. She knew too few words of French to understand the nurse. “I’m sorry, um… parlez vous Anglais?”

“Oui. Yes.” The young woman nodded. She looked even younger than Villanelle. “I asked if you wanted something to drink?”

“Oh. No, thank you. I’m fine.” The last cup of coffee someone had brought her was standing cold on the floor beside her chair. The nurse left, leaving Eve alone with her demons.

“I don’t even know what I’m still doing here. I should have ran while I had the chance. You’ll probably wake up and stab me with whatever’s handy.”

“You would deserve it.” Eve recoiled at the sound of the other woman’s voice, knocking her chair over with a clatter. Villanelle was on her back with both eyes closed, but she had definitely spoken.

The door opened a second time. The same nurse came rushing in, looking wide-eyed and panicked. “I heard a noise.”  
“She spoke.” Eve pointed at the bed. “She’s awake.”

“I’ll go get the doctor.” She left again, pulling the door ajar but not closing it. Eve picked up her chair with shaking hands. She set it a few inches further from the bed than it had been before she took a seat. “Are you… okay?”

The question was ridiculous, but it was all she had. Villanelle let out a snort. A mixture of pain and laughter. “No. I am not okay. You fucking stabbed me!”  
She tried to sit up. Eve rushed forward, forgetting her fear for a moment.

“Easy, you could bust a stitch. You’re not supposed to be awake for hours.”   
“I have a strong tolerance to barbiturates,” Villanelle grunted. She used Eve’s outstretched arms to help sit herself up and then flopped back against the pillows. “And pain. Not so much for betrayal.”

The fingers of her left hand clamped around Eve’s wrist before she could pull away. “Oksana, I am so-” Her apology cut short as the door opened.

Villanelle’s whole demeanor changed as she went from ruthless assassin to harmless victim in the blink of an eye. Her eyes softened, taking on a hazy glow. She took Eve’s hand instead of her wrist. “Darling, I am so happy to see you.”

Eve was taken aback until she looked over her shoulder and found two uniformed police officers standing by the doorway. “Bonjour.” The oldest one, a man in his early fifties with neatly cropped salt and pepper hair took off his hat and greeted the two women.

His colleague was a young woman, stout in stature but pretty in a plain way. Neither were any match for the con-artist lying in the hospital bed.

The male officer continued. “Excusez-moi, madame. Nous devons prendre votre déclaration sur ce qui s'est passé. Si votre ami pouvait quitter la pièce-”

“She stays.” Said Villanelle. She brought Eve’s hand up to her lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Eve felt the eyes of everyone in that room on her. She blushed, wishing she had left hours ago.

“As you wish. Are you happier to speak in English?” The man’s accent was heavy, but his English was perfect. Villanelle nodded.

“Very well. I am Judiciaire Hughes. This is my colleague officer Lawrence. We are here to ask you what happened this afternoon. Your doctors say you were stabbed.”  
“Yes.” Came Villanelle’s reply.

Eve could feel her chest tightening in response. Would she lie? Or would she tell them the truth? Letting the authorities deal with Eve didn’t seem like Villanelle’s style, but playing games was.

“I was stabbed coming out of my building.” Eve let out a soft sigh of relief as Villanelle started with a lie. Her anxiety soon returned as the other woman continued without prompting. “It was a woman.”

“Can you describe this woman?” Asked Hughes. He had taken out a notebook and pen. Eve tried to discreetly tug her hand out of Villanelle’s but the assassin held strong.

“Early forties. Around five foot five. Brown eyes. Thick, wavy, brown hair… Oh, and she was Asian.” Eve’s heart sunk. Her cheeks burned and her palms were sweating.

Hughes stopped scribbling in his notebook and looked from Villanelle to Eve, and then to his colleague. She slowly reached for the pistol holder at her side while Hughes tucked his notebook into his breast pocket. “I see. Is this woman known to you?”

Villanelle took her time in answering. She glanced at Eve, her eyes alight with mischief, before turning back to the officers. “No. I had never met this woman.”

“You are sure?” Lawrence finally piped up, her English more broken than her partner’s. Her hand was still hovering over her gun. “If you are afraid of someone we can help you.”

Villanelle made a show of scrunching her face up like she didn’t understand what the young officer meant. She looked up at Eve and let out a fake laugh. “Oh! You think… No. The Eve I know would never do that to me. Would you, Eve?”

Eve shook her head. She didn’t trust her voice right away. “No.” She still squeaked even after taking a moment. “No, I would never-”

“And you are?” Hughes snapped. Villanelle might have denied Eve’s involvement in her attack, but her description had been too on the nose for the seasoned officer to dismiss her entirely; just as Villanelle had wanted.

She was playing with Eve.

“Eve. Eve Polastri… I don’t have my ID on me right now. I think I dropped my purse when I saw… saw Julie bleeding.” Hughes wrote her name down on the back of his hand and then pocketed his pen.

He asked a few more questions until Villanelle faked a yawn. “I am tired. Can we continue this in the morning?” They reluctantly agreed. Lawrence handed her card over to Villanelle in-case she thought of anything else in the meantime.

“God, could she eye fuck you any harder?” Eve let out an exasperated huff as the door closed.

She caught herself as the younger woman waggled her eyebrows at her suggestively and asked, “Jealous?” Eve rolled her eyes and dropped into her chair.

She untied and then re-tied her hair out of habit. “Why didn’t you tell them it was me?”

“Why didn’t you tell them I am a killer?” Villanelle shot back. Eve was at a loss for an answer. The truth was, she could have told them all about Oksana Astankova.

They might have thought she was crazy but one phone call to Carolyn would have cleared that up. She may have fired her, but Carolyn wasn’t stupid. She wanted the Twelve. Villanelle was a viable way to get them.

Eve had no answer to her question, so she went on the defensive instead. “You couldn’t have come up with a better description? They think I did it, you dick!”

“You did! Plus, you stab me and I’m the dick? Rude.” Villanelle huffed.  
“Well, you tried to shoot me after. So… truce?”  
“You. Stabbed. Me!”

“I know! I know. And I am sorry! How many times do I have to say it?” Eve scooted forward in her chair, ignoring every instinct in her body screaming for her to run.

“I fucked up. I was scared, but I meant every word I said to you.” She implored, reaching out for Villanelle’s hand. She let her take it and laced their fingers together.

“Even when you asked me not to kill you?”  
“Especially that.” Eve fought the urge to pull away. She had broken Oksana’s trust once already. She wasn’t about to build bridges by running from her.

Their connection was unexplainable. Eve couldn’t put down in words just how she felt about the enigmatic assassin. She couldn’t even wrap her head around it.

There was something about Oksana that pulled her in. She wanted to know more about her. She wanted to know everything. At the same time, she was terrified as much as she was intrigued.

She feared what Oksana could do to her. What she might do to her if her infatuation faded. Eve was almost two decades her senior. The attraction wouldn’t last forever, and then where would she be?

Despite her fears, Eve asked, “What can I do to make this right? Please tell me.”  
Villanelle didn’t answer straight away. She yawned for real, the events of the previous few days - and the drugs in her system - finally catching up with her.

She closed her eyes, making Eve think she would ignore the question altogether. Then she said, “Stay.”

“Of course. I’ll stay with you until morning and then I can get you some things-”  
“No.” She opened her eyes again and caught Eve’s gaze in her own. “I mean stay. Not just tonight. Stay with me. That is how you can make it right.”

“I-”

“What do you have to go back to? No job, no husband. No nothing. So stay here.” She persisted, expecting Eve’s refusal before she could even get the words out. “Please.”

Eve dropped her gaze. She stood up and took a step towards the bed so she could lean over the younger woman. Villanelle stared her down with a dour expression, expecting her to make excuses and leave, or to finish what she started.

Eve did neither of those.

She brought her hand up to Oksana’s cheek and brushed a stray strand of honey blond hair back from her face. It was the first time she had touched her. She had been touched by Villanelle plenty but had never reciprocated. Until now.

It was like Eve had just willingly put her head inside of a lion’s mouth. Her hand was shaking as she pulled it back and let it drop to her side. Villanelle was still waiting for an answer as Eve bent down and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead.

“Okay. For a bit.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the first chapter and all the comments and requests for me to continue.

  
“You should go home and get some rest.” Said the young nurse who had been checking in on Vilanelle throughout the night. Eve couldn’t remember her name. She had to glance discreetly at the girl’s badge.

“I’m fine. Thank you, Sarah.” Eve sat up straighter in the plastic chair she’d occupied all day. She was fairly certain the seat had molded itself in to the shape of her arse cheeks by now.

She rubbed at the back of her neck like it might do anything to help with the dull ache in her head. The nurse gave her a sympathetic look. “The doctor gave her another sedative. She will not wake before morning. Go home. Rest.”

Eve didn’t have a home. Not anymore. She’d left her home and everything else along with it behind when she’d ran halfway across the world chasing down Villanelle and the Twelve.

Eve could have gone back with Carolyn and Kenny. She had her chance to go back to her old life, but Eve had gone to Paris instead. Villanelle was right. There was nothing to go back to.  
Not anymore.

“I should stay… Just in case.” Eve said, glancing anxiously at Villanelle’s prone form. “I don’t want her to panic if she wakes up and I’m not here.”  
She might murder someone, Eve added silently to herself. Villanelle didn’t have the best track record with hospitals.

“You’re no good to her if you’re exhausted. Leave your number. I can call you if she wakes up before you get back in the morning.” The nurse’s gaze caught on Eve’s wedding band. “Your wife is in good hands.”

“Wife?” Eve followed where the nurse was looking and suddenly caught on. She shoved her hand in to the pocket of her cardigan.

“It’s okay.” She gave Eve a conspiratorial smile. “My wife is a few years older than me too.”  
“Oh. Right.” Eve felt her cheeks flush. She didn’t bother correcting the other woman.

It was late. She hadn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours. Eve didn’t have the mental capacity to come up with a more plausible reason she was sitting vigil by Villanelle’s bedside. “We’re still in the honeymoon phase… Sometimes I forget we’re even married.”

“Go home. Get some sleep and you can come back in the morning with her things. She would like her own nightdress, yes?”

“Yes… Okay.” Eve relented. The nurse was right. Villanelle would need her things. She made a mental checklist of what she would need to bring for her.

Eve needed to get into the flat first. She’d have to knock that old lady downstairs out of bed to let her inside.

Eve scribbled her number on a piece of paper at the nurse’s station before she left. She took a taxi back to Villanelle’s place and paid with her iPhone.

The door to her flat was unlocked, both of them having run out in a hurry. Eve thanked whatever higher power might have been listening for the small mercy of not having to face the old busybody downstairs.

She fumbled around in the dark for a moment, struggling to find the light switch. When her fingers brushed against it she flipped it on, flooding the room with light.

Glass littered the floor. The champagne had dried in sticky pools, just like the trail of blood leading from the bedroom and towards the door.

Eve felt a fresh stab of guilt twisting at her insides.  
As tired as she was there was no way she could sleep with all of that blood. Villanelle’s blood. Blood that Eve herself had spilt.

She shrugged off her cardigan and tossed it on the sofa as she crossed the living room in purposeful strides. It took her a few minutes to find what she was looking for.

A utility cupboard sat just off from the kitchen, in which Eve found a sweeping brush and a dustpan. After rolling up her sleeves and tying back her hair, she set about cleaning up the broken glass.

Once that was done she tackled the blood. Unsurprisingly, Villanelle had an industrial size bottle of strong bleach in the cupboard under the kitchen sink.

Setting to work, Eve filled a mop bucket up with water and added a generous amount of the acrid smelling bleach to it. The blood had already congealed. The mop left thick red smears in its wake. Eve needed to go over it to get the thick up.

She followed the trail from the door to the living room and all the way in to the bedroom. The blood-soaked sheets were waiting for her.

It hurts.

Eve retched. She felt the bile rising in the back of her throat and all but ran to the bathroom. She dropped to her knees and hurled her guts until hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

She heaved until long after her stomach was empty. Eve couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten; not that she had any appetite.

She picked herself up off the floor and ran the tap on the sink. The water was ice cold as she splashed it on her face and dabbed a wet washcloth against the back of her neck.

In the bedroom she bundled up the duvet and jammed it into a bin liner. The blood hadn’t soaked through to the sheet but Eve still pulled that off and stuffed it in the bag.

A large pool of blood sat by the side of the bed, along with a bullet casing - from the shot Villanelle had fired off at her.

Eve pocketed it. The bed linen she could burn in the bathtub, but she’d need to dispose of the bullet casing.

That was a job for later. Next she had to tackle the blood. She mopped up the majority with a towel from the bathroom, then added that to the trash bag.

Specks of it had become ingrained within the wooden flooring. Eve took a scrubbing brush over and over it until her hands ached and were stained red.

She scrubbed her hands as furiously as she had scrubbed the floor. Once she was done, every trace of Villanelle’s blood was gone from the flat.

If Eve was tired before, then she was exhausted by the time she finished. She couldn’t stomach the thought of sleeping in Villanelle’s bed. Even with fresh sheets on she wouldn’t be able to settle.

The spare sheets were folded in a pile at the bottom of the wardrobe. Eve found a copper coloured silk throw and took it in to the living room. She collapsed on the sofa and pulled the blanket over her.

It was getting light. The cleanup operation had taken most of the night. Eve’s head barely hit the pillow before she was asleep.

She got only a few hours of sleep before her phone startled her awake. She groped around for it on the floor in front of the couch. Snatching it up, she answered with a gruff, “Hello?”

“Where the hell are you?” It was Elena. Her tone was less than friendly as she berated Eve over the phone. “Kenny said you didn‘t got on the plane with them? Carolyn’s reassigned me to another department and-”

“Breathe.” Eve sat up, mussing her hair with one hand while holding her mobile to her ear with the other. “I’m in Paris.”

“Don’t tell me you went after that nutter on your own!”  
“Okay. I won’t tell you.” Said Eve. The other woman took a deep breath, getting ready to chew her out.

“It was a bust.” Eve lied. “I checked out the flat. It’s been empty for a while. None of the neighbours recognised Oksana’s picture.” She hated lying to her friend, but there was no way Eve could tell Elena the truth.

“Oh.” She sounded deflated. “When are you flying back? We need Carolyn to reopen the-”  
“I’m not.” Answered Eve. “I mean, I’m not flying back right away. I need time. I’m staying in France for a few weeks, maybe head down South.”

“If you think that’s for the best… just promise me you’re not going after her on your own, Eve.” Elena didn’t sound convinced.

“I… I can’t do this anymore.” Eve’s voice cracked and wavered and the tears rolling down her cheeks were genuine as she added, “Chasing Oksana has cost me everything. I… I just need time to think.”

“Okay. Well, stay safe and keep in touch, yeah?”  
“I will.” Eve promised. She hung up and wiped at her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

A quick glance at the time on her phone showed it was nearly visiting hours at the hospital. Eve hadn’t had a call from Villanelle’s nurse yet, so she assumed the other woman was still sleeping off the sedative.

Eve dragged her suitcase in to the bathroom. She changed in to clean clothes, washed her face, brushed her teeth and tied her hair back. Within a few minutes of waking up she was presentable enough to go out.

Once dressed she went in to Vilanelle’s room in search of an overnight bag. She found a Louis Vuitton suitcase in the closet. It likely cost more than Eve’s first car had.

She set it on top of the bed with the lid up and gathered the necessities Villanelle would need for an extended stay in hospital.

The toiletries were easy to gather, but Eve was having a hard time finding any nightwear. The nightdresses Villanelle owned were short and silky; more suitable for the Playboy Mansion than a hospital.

Eve found two pairs of shorts and a few t-shirts. They’d just have to do. She added them to the suitcase along with the toiletries and an expensive looking silk robe covered in chrysanthemums.

She took Villanelle’s house keys from a bowl on a sideboard by the front door and placed them in her handbag. Her Uber was waiting for her as she walked out of the building.

The driver was unbearably chatty. He asked Eve a million questions in broken English. Where was she from? How long was she staying? Had she seen the Eiffel Tower yet? Why was she going to hospital?

Eve wanted to punch him in the face when he stopped at a light and turned to ask her another asinine question. She was growing more uneasy the closer they got to the hospital.

Villanelle had been pleasant, even playful, at the hospital. But she had been doped up on painkillers and powerful sedatives. Eve couldn’t be sure what she might walk in and find.  
  
The driver pulled up outside the hospital, parking in front of an ambulance. Eve resisted the urge to shout at him and stuffed a handful of notes in to his hand before fleeing the car. She almost forgot Villanelle’s suitcase until the man waved her back.

Eve mumbled a ‘thanks’ as he handed it over. She rushed through the main entrance then slowed to a snail’s pace as she approached the bank of lifts. A little shop to her left caught her eye.

She wasted another ten minutes in the shop, buying coffee and getting a few things for Villanelle; as if a peace offering of grapes might keep her from stabbing her. Eve picked a bunch of flowers as an after thought.

Villanelle was sitting up when Eve walked in to her room. Someone had propped her up with two orthopaedic pillows. Her skin looked grey and washed out. Her usually alert, cat-like, eyes were wide and glassy.

“Eve… Are those for me?” She pointed at the flowers the older woman was carrying. Eve glanced down, having forgotten she was holding them.

“Oh. Yes.” She walked up to the bed and placed the flowers on Villanelle’s lap. Eve couldn’t name what flowers they were. She’d picked them for their vibrant colour above all else.

Villanelle looked pleased with them. She picked up the bunch and examined them closely, wearing an easy smile. “They are beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Eve shrugged off her coat and laid it to rest on the back of the chair she had occupied for most of the previous day. “I’ll go ask someone for a vase.”

Villanelle caught her wrist before she could move away. For all she looked like a strong wind might topple her over, her grip was still tight. “They will keep. Sit with me. Please.”

“Okay.” Eve reached back for the seat and pulled it up to where she was standing. Villanelle finally let go of her wrist once she sat. “How… how are you? How do you, um, feel?”

“Like someone stabbed me.” Villanelle answered with a wry grin. She seemed more amused than angry though. Eve felt herself relax as her anxiety subsided. Villanelle didn’t appear to be in an hurry to exact her revenge.

Eve was safe for now.

“How are you? Where did you go?” She asked the latter question innocently enough, but Eve saw past the other woman’s pleasantries. She was probing to see if Eve had contacted the authorities.

“The nurse sent me away. I went to your flat.” Eve nodded at the suitcase she had left standing by the doorway. “I picked you some things up. I couldn’t find any nightwear, so I put in some shorts and t-shirts, I hope that’s okay for you?”

“I usually sleep naked.” Villanelle gave a small shrug. She said this as if it was no big deal, but that piece of information lodged itself in Eve’s brain like the proverbial spanner in the works.

Villanelle was speaking again, but Eve only caught the tail end. “… Eve?”  
“Hmm?” She struggled to clear her head and focus on what the other woman was saying. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Villanelle grinned at her as she repeated herself. “I said, do you like to sleep naked?” The question caught Eve off guard. She sat there, slack jawed and at a loss for an answer.

“Not really.” She answered after a moment, a flush to her cheeks.  
“Shame.” Villanelle shrugged. “You should try. It’s very enjoyable. Freeing.”

“I’ll… think about it.” Said Eve. She was lost as how else to respond to the suggestion. Villanelle appeared pleased none the less.

“Good.” She nodded. She lay back against the mountain of pillows they had propped her up with. Her eyes closed. Eve could only guess how exhausting being stabbed was.

“Do you want me to come back later, or-” She tried to continue and one of Villanelle’s cat-like eyes cracked open.

“No. Sit.” She opened her other eye, but looked ready to drop off at any moment. “I am sorry. I have had a tiring morning. The police came again.”

“They did?” Eve questioned. She leaned forward in her seat, her hands resting on her knees. “What did they say? Did they question your account again? Was there anything on CCTV? Did any neighbours-”

“They asked me if you stabbed me...” Eve felt a lump forming in the back of her throat as she waited for Oksana to elaborate. The assassin was in no hurry.

Her eyes dipped shut again and Eve had to swallow the urge to shake her. “Oksana? What did you tell them?”

“I asked why they would ask me such a thing.” There was a sing-song lilt to her voice. Her eyes were glazed. The morphine drip in her hand probably had something to do with both.

“Because you described me!” Eve snapped. She didn’t understand what game Vilanelle was playing, but she felt like a mouse with its tail trapped beneath a cat’s paw.

“That’s what they said.” Villanelle mused. She looked pleased with herself, lending Eve to think she might be more alert than she appeared.

“I told them I was in a lot of pain and confused. Then I described a tall white man in his twenties, with a scruffy beard and short blond hair. Nothing at all like you.” She managed a wink. It didn’t settle the unease in the pit of Eve’s stomach.

The police were the least of her worries. She’d stabbed a murderous psychopath and Vilanelle seemed the type to hold a grudge. She was playing nice so far, but Eve wasn’t about to let her guard down.

If the former MI-5 analyst had any sense left in her, she would have been on the first plane to Timbuktu; or anywhere in the world she migh stand a chance of staying one step ahead of Villanelle.

As if such a place existed.

“Aren’t you going to say thank you?” Vilanelle asked. Eve wanted to slap the smug grin she was wearing off of her face.

Instead, she swallowed her pride and said, “Thank you, Oksana.”

“You are very welcome, Eve Polastri. Now, could you get me a vase for these lovely flowers? I would not want them to die. That would be such a waste… Don’t you think?”

Villanelle slept for most of her second day in hospital. Each Each month woke up, after drifting off, she’d turn and search for Eve; and each time Eve was there.

The older woman sat in a chair by Villanelle’s bedside, reading a stack of magazines she had picked up on her second trip to the little shop on the ground floor.

Villanelle lay on her good side facing Eve. She had one hand tucked under her chin. “You look uncomfortable.”

“Hmm.” Eve rubbed at the back of her neck and stretched. Her spine might mould to the shape of the chair if she sat there much longer.

“There’s room in here.” Villanelle gave her a wolfish grin as she patted the empty bed beside her.

“Given what happened the last time we shared a bed I think I’ll pass for now.”

Villanelle’s expression soured. She rolled on to her back with a grimace. “Stabbing me was a shitty thing to do.”  
“I know.”

“I wonder what twisted things I can come up with to pay you back.” That wolfish grin returned as Eve took an audible gulp. Eve had promised she could pay her back for the stabbing. At the time she had been willing to say anything to keep Villanelle holding on.

“Oksana-”  
“Relax. I said I will not kill you.”  
“It’s not you killing me I’m worried about.”

Villanelle was a trained assassin. She could hurt Eve in a thousand different ways without taking her life. If she made Eve suffer for her mistakes, then she would draw it out, making the pain last as long as possible. Death would not be an option for Eve, no matter how much she might plead for it.

“Oh? And what is it you would like me to do to you instead, Eve?” Villanelle’s tone was more playful than sinister. She was back on her side, watching the other woman’s reaction closely.

“Leave me alone?” Suggested Eve. Villanelle laughed at that. It was only a soft chuckle - her stomach was too sore for much more - but her eyes filled with amusement.

“Where would the fun in that be?” She had Eve over a barrel. They both knew it. French authorities now had Eve’s name connecting her with an assault. They might try her for attempted murder if Villanelle turned her in.

Eve could make a case for self-defence and the British Embassy would be obliged to help her, but would Carolyn Martens back her up? Would MI5 or MI6 even admit to employing her?

Or would they leave her in the cold facing serious charges? She had screwed Carolyn over in Russia. There was every chance Eve was on her own.

At Villanelle’s mercy.


	3. Chapter 3

“I still can’t believe they discharged you!” Eve fumed. “Three days! You get stabbed, and they kept you in three days! Niko was in longer than that when his appendix got removed for Christ’s sake!” Villanelle’s doctor had done his rounds earlier that morning and cleared her to go home. Villanelle was pleased, but Eve was furious.

“It is standard.” Said Villanelle, not for the first time since Eve’s ranting had started. “The wound is closed. I have painkillers. There is no need for me to be in hospital.”

“You were stabbed!” Eve threw her arms up in frustration. She didn’t understand how Villanelle could be so blase.

“Yes. I was.” Said Villanelle. “By you. Now I can go, and you can look after me until I am better.” The other woman seemed amused. Eve had agreed to stay in Paris until Villanelle was back on her feet, which might take weeks, if not months? She’d offered out of guilt, but regretted it. She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache starting. “Great. Here’s our Uber.”

A silver BMW pulled up at the pickup point outside the hospital. Villanelle sat in the wheelchair they’d used to get her from the ward to the entrance. Eve helped the younger woman to her feet, slipping an arm around her shoulder and taking on most of Villanelle’s meagre weight. The driver got the door for them.

He was a middle-aged Asian man who spoke in heavily accented French. Eve wasn’t fluent enough in the language to understand much of what he said. She caught the odd word as Villanelle asked him where he was from. The two spent the rest of the journey talking while Eve looked sullenly out of the window.

The drive to Villanelle’s flat was a short one. Their driver took her suitcase while Eve helped her out of the car. He asked her something in his native language and Villanelle must have responded in the affirmative as moments later he was picking her up bridal style and carrying her up the flight of stairs to her apartment. “Okay then…” That left Eve to carry Villanelle’s overnight bag. She trudged up the stairs, following the others.

“He was nice. Make sure you give him five stars.” Villanelle insisted once they had made it inside and Eve was easing her on to the sofa.

“What was that language you spoke?” Asked Eve. She knew the other woman to be proficient in several languages and had a knack for picking up accents, but the information Ana had given her was four years old. Someone like Villanelle could have learnt a half a dozen new languages since then.

“Hindi.” Villanelle said brightly, enjoying showing off for Eve. “I learnt from watching Bollywood movies. I like them a lot."    
  
“Really? I would have thought Silence of the Lambs would be more your thing.” Eve couldn’t say what movies she expected the assassin to like. Villanelle was an enigma. One she so desperately wanted to crack.

“That is a great movie.” Villanelle agreed. She adjusted the cushion behind her to make herself more comfortable. “Jodie Foster is very good. I like lots of movies, though. All types.”

“Me too.”

Villanelle looked pleased by her admission. “Can we watch something now? Together? I have Netflix.”

“Sure. Just Netflix, though. No chill.” Eve meant it as a joke, trying to ease the tension in the room.

“The doctor said no sex until the stitches come out.” Villanelle said flatly, either missing or choosing to ignore that she was kidding. Eve sighed. It would be a long few weeks.

“I’ll make tea.” She walked into the kitchen. The lavishly decorated open plan apartment was a far cry from Eve’s cosy little terrace house back home. She stood watching the kettle boil, hoping to spend a few minutes alone. By the time the tea was ready she found Villanelle spread out on the sofa.

She sat propped up on a cushion and the pillow Eve had slept on the previous two nights. She draped the beautiful copper throw over herself and sniffed at it. “Did you sleep here last night?”

“Yes. I did.” Eve self-consciously sniffed at her clothes. She’d showered both nights.  
“Hmm. You smell good.” Said Villanelle. She had no shame in sniffing the blanket for Eve’s scent.

Eve, herself had done this before - wearing the sweatshirt of a boyfriend in college, or burying her face in Niko’s pillow after an argument - but she had never been so brash about it. “Thanks.” She wasn’t sure what to say. She placed both mugs of tea on the coffee table in front of the brown leather sofa and then pulled the matching arm chair around closer to the table.

“You can sit here.” Villanelle nodded at the opposite end of the sofa where her feet were resting.

“No, it’s okay. I’m fine here.”

“Suit yourself… What movie should we watch?”

They watched Silence of the Lambs, thanks to Eve’s earlier wise crack. Hannibal followed, and then a movie about talking animals in a singing competition. Eve sat in the armchair for hours, only getting up to make more tea and to help Villanelle to the bathroom. She was regretting not taking the other woman’s offer to sit on the sofa with her.

“I need to pee.” Villanelle announced for the third time since arriving home.  
  
“Again?” Eve rolled her eyes at her. “You have the bladder of a four-year-old.”

“You keep feeding me tea!” Said Villanelle. “Tea, tea, tea! You British and your tea… I am sick of tea! I want wine!”

“You’re on morphine, you can’t have alcohol.” Eve put her foot down. Villanelle twisted her face and folded her arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

It was slow work getting Villanelle to the bathroom. She put her arm over Eve’s shoulder, while Eve placed a hand on her hip. They ambled - Eve taking on most of Villanelle’s weight - through the open double doors leading in to the assassin’s bedroom and then into the en suite. She was wearing shorts. Eve sat her down on the toilet, helped ease the shorts down past her knees and then left her to the pee in peace and fetched the bottle of Zomorph the hospital issued for pain management.

“Finished!” Villanelle called out to her moments later. She wiped herself, but needed Eve’s help in getting her shorts back up. “This is not very sexy.” She huffed, her hands resting on Eve’s shoulders while the other woman was on her knees pulling up her shorts.

“At least I don’t have to wipe your ass for you. That would be a real mood killer.” Eve said dryly. “Come on, let’s get you back on the couch. It’s time for your meds.”

“I’m hungry.” Villanelle moaned once she was on the sofa and Eve poured out her dosage of oral morphine.

“Take this, then I’ll make dinner.” Eve held the spoon in front of of her mouth, but the younger woman kept her lips tightly shut. “Oksana, please…” Taking care of her was exhausting. Villanelle’s lips curved up into a satisfied smirk before they finally parted. Eve unceremoniously shoved the spoon she was holding in her mouth.

“Rude.” Villanelle frowned, pulling it out herself. “Also, this tastes like shit.”

“Well, If you don’t take it your side will hurt like fuck.” Said Eve. Villanelle’s eyes widened in mock surprise.

“Oh, my God. Eve, you said a swear!”

Eve snatched the spoon back from her with a shake of her head. “Actual four-year-old.” She muttered to herself on the way to the kitchen. Eve had been shopping earlier that morning before going to the hospital, but she hadn’t expected Villanelle to be out so soon. There was enough in then fridge for her to throw something together for two. She made a simple chicken and vegetable pasta bake with a jar of ready-made sauce.

“This is good.” Villanelle said after a mouthful. It was the first time they’d shared a meal together, since Eve had eaten nothing that first night in her kitchen.

“Thanks. It’s one of the few things I can make. Niko usually cooks in our house.” Eve didn’t realise what she had said until it was out of her mouth.

Villanelle’s eyes grew colder as she stabbed at a lump of chicken with her fork. “How is your husband?” She asked, her tone light and inquisitive.

Eve didn’t answer right away. She played with her own food, pushing it around her plate. “I don’t know. We haven’t spoken since I left for Russia… We fought. I… I slapped him. That’s never happened before.” She placed her fork down and pushed her hair back from her face with a heavy sigh. “Lately, I’ve done a lot of things I’ve never done before. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”  
  
“You escalated quickly.” Villanelle pointed out. “Slapping to stabbing. You might kill someone before long.” She didn’t look very alarmed by this prospect. Villanelle looked excited.

“Who says I haven’t already? For a bad-ass killer you’re trusting with your food.” Said Eve. She did her best to keep a straight face as Villanelle stopped chewing and sniffed at her plate. After a moment’s contemplation she gave a half shrug and shovelled another forkful in to her cavity.

“You can’t kill me, Eve. You tried, but you couldn’t go through with it.” Eve winced at the observation. It was true. “You don’t want me dead. You just want me.” Villanelle said proudly.

“I’m not… That’s not true. I’m not into women, Oksana.”

“Then why are you still here? You could have left. It’s not like I could stop you.”

“I’m only here until you’re better. After that I’m gone. I’m done with all this. You… You fascinate me, but I’ve lost everything from chasing you. So… I’m done.”

“We’ll see…” Said Villanelle. Then, sounding aloof, she added, “I’m tired. Can you help me into bed?”

“Sure.” Eve felt a deep sense of relief at the thought of putting the other woman to bed and getting time to herself. She’d barely had a moment in the last few days, and even when she had her thoughts had focused on Villanelle. Exhausted, and pumped full of morphine, Villanelle was a dead weight as Eve helped her up off the couch.

The younger woman did little to help hold herself up, leaving Eve to do the brunt of the work as they stumbled towards Villanelle’s bedroom. Her eyes were closing over even before Eve lowered her on to the bed. After a huge yawn she asked, “Will you sleep with me?”

Eve let out a frustrated sigh. “I told you I’m straight, and you’re in no condition to-”

“No, Silly!” Villanelle gave out a girlish giggle, already three sheets to the wind with the morphine. “I meant will you sleep here with me tonight? In my bed.” She absently patted the empty expanse of duvet beside her. The proposal took Eve aback. It felt much more intimate than any request to fuck.

She stammered, “I… The couch is fine. I’ll sleep there again. Oksana?” Any argument Eve might have been expecting disappeared as she realised Villanelle was asleep. Her eyes were closed and her chest was rising and falling softly. With her fair hair and soft features she looked angelic.

  
Eve crept back out the room and slid the door quietly shut. She had changed into her pyjamas earlier so she climbed straight in to her makeshift bed on the sofa. Villanelle’s scent was all over the blanket. Eve inhaled deeply. She felt ashamed of her actions, but couldn’t help herself. Everything about the other woman was intoxicating.

“Get a grip.” She berated herself, pushing the throw to her waist. The television was still playing. Eve used the remote to switch it off. Lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling, she wondered just how the hell she had gotten herself into this mess.

 

* * *

 

  
“Eve?” Villanelle croaked as she sat herself up in her bed. “Eve!” She wiped at the sleep in her eyes with her hand. It was early but light already streaming through her bedroom windows. The curtains were wide open.

Eve!” She called out a third time, trying to get the other woman’s attention. In a smaller whimper she added, “I need to pee…” Deciding Eve wasn’t coming, Villanelle eased her feet to the floor. A sharp jolt of pain shot through her whole left side. She let out a hiss of cuss words while she waited for the pain to subside before she even attempted to stand.

It took far longer than it should have for her to shuffle into the bathroom. The assassin gave a contented sigh as she relieved herself. It had been touch and go. Villanelle had thought she might wet herself. That was hardly the way to win Eve’s affections.

Standing by the sink she glared at her reflection in the mirror. The bruising to her face was healing. The sallow purple was giving way to a sickly, pale green colour around the edges. She washed her face and patted it dry with a plush towel she had stolen from a fancy hotel in Dublin. Her skin was dry and the dark circles framing her eyes leant her the look of a raccoon.

She made it back into her room, moving more surely now that her body had time to wake up. Villanelle took a seat in front of her vanity unit and picked up a tub of expensive moisturiser. Just applying the sweet-scented cream made her feel human again. It wasn’t much but at least it was a start.

Clothes came next. After four days of wearing nothing but pyjamas, she was more than ready to wear actual clothes again. The sweatpants and cotton blend T-shirt she struggled her way into weren’t far off from what she usually wore to bed, but they were still clothes.

The apartment was quiet as Poetry moved into the living room. Her house guest lay curled up under a throw on the couch. “Eve?” She spoke in little more than a whisper as she approached the sleeping woman. “Eve Polastri?” She didn’t stir. Fast asleep in the lion’s den and sleeping like a baby. Villanelle crept closer still until she hovered over her.

Leaning against the arm of the chair to support herself, she watched Eve sleep. At forty-one the much woman had aged like an exquisite wine. The lines at the corners of her eyes and around her mouth were fine, almost indecipherable, whilst she slept. Her coppery skin felt soft as Villanelle traced a finger over her cheek.

Villanelle could reach out and snap her neck in an instant and Eve would be non-the-wiser. For an intelligence operative Eve Polastri could be so naïve.

Her phone lay on the coffee table. Villanelle scooped it up before flopping into the armchair beside the couch. She hadn’t changed her pin. “Seriously?” She cocked her head to the side, rolling her eyes at Eve. The contents of the phone appeared as mundane as the last time Villanelle stole it. There were no racy selfies or naughty messages.

She had several missed calls and unanswered messages from the husband. It looked like Eve had been ignoring him. Someone called Elena was asking how her holiday was going and a Kenny enquiring when she would be back. All boring.

Villanelle took a quick selfie of herself smiling at the camera before putting the phone down where she found it.

Her stomach rumbled. She normally went out for breakfast to the deli a few streets away. They didn’t do takeout, though, and she couldn’t make it there on her own. Her fridge was fuller than she had left it. Eve must have been shopping while she was in the hospital. Instead of champagne it was full of fresh fruit and vegetables, cheese, meats, milk, yogurt and various other delectables. There were bagels in the bread box. Villanelle toasted two and then loaded them up with ham and cheese and fresh sliced tomatoes. She ate one and left the other on a plate for Eve.

That was what Eve woke up to an hour later, the sight of a bagel on the coffee table and the soft sounds of a movie playing on the television across from her. She sat up, pushed her hair back from her face, and stretched out like a cat in the sun. Three nights of sleeping on a hard leather couch had done her back no favours.

“Good morning, Sunshine!” She blinked the sleep out of her eyes as a cheery voice greeted her. Villanelle was curled up in the armchair. “I thought you would sleep all day.”

“What time is it?” Eve frowned. She reached over for her mobile and groaned as a sharp pain shot up her spine. She cradled the bottom of her back as she unlocked the phone. “Did you change my background image?”

“It’s noon, and yes. Do you like it?” Villanelle’s face was beaming up at her from her screen. It was a flattering photo, with the soft morning light framing her delicate features. Piercing hazel eyes stared up at Eve with amusement.

“Don’t touch my stuff.” Huffed Eve. She tossed the phone back on the coffee table.

“If you didn’t want me to mess with it, then you should have changed your pin.” Villanelle shrugged. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like the photo? I can take another one?”

“The photo’s fine.” Eve rubbed at her face as the assassin sulked. “… It’s a lovely picture, thank you.”

“You are welcome!” Villanelle was glowing. She clutched at her stomach at she sat forward in her chair. “I made you breakfast too.” She used her free hand to gesture at the plate sitting between them.

Eve’s attention was elsewhere. “You shouldn’t be sitting like that, you could burst your stitches!” She stood up and ushered the other woman onto the couch. Villanelle obliged.

“It was uncomfortable.” She nodded in agreement as she settled under the heavy throw Eve had been using as a blanket.

“You should have woken me!” Eve scorned. She fussed over her, pulling the blanket up under her chin and tucking it in at the back.

“I tried. You are a heavy sleeper. Did you know that?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

“From your husband?” Her tone was light and inquisitive, but there was something lurking just beneath the surface, something far more sinister. Eve nodded. “What have you told him? About where you are right now?”

“We haven’t spoken since I left for Russia.” Eve answered honestly. She picked at her bagel, tearing a piece off and popping it into her mouth. “We had a fight… I pushed him.”  
  
Villanelle seemed to consider this for a moment before asking, “Did you stab him?”

“No!” Eve looked horrified. “Of course not!”

“But you stabbed me? That must mean you like me more.”

“What?” Frowned Eve. “That’s… that’s insane!”

“Is it?” Villanelle looked smug, like she and Eve were in on a secret.

“Yes. It is. Oksana, people don’t go around stabbing people they like.”

“But you like me.” It wasn’t a question. “You trashed my flat because you like me so much.”

Eve sat twisting her wedding band around her finger. She pursed her lips, picking her words. “Yes, I… like you.” She conceded. “But those things, trashing your apartment, stabbing you, none of that is normal! You see that, right?”

“Normal is boring.” Villanelle said with a shrug. “I like you more now I know what you are capable of.”

“That’s funny.” Eve crinkled her nose in distaste. “Because I like myself a lot less.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading and for the comments! I'm planning on updating on Sundays/Mondays where possible.

Eve walked into the living room just as Villanelle was finishing up on the phone. Laden with shopping bags she shuffled over to the kitchenette and placed them on the countertop. Villanelle spoke in Italian. Her silky voice floated over the apartment, but Eve couldn’t understand a word she was saying.

“… Grazie, Luca. Ci vediamo tra una settimana.” She hung up and turned to lean on the arm of the sofa, watching Eve as she busied herself with putting groceries away. “Did you get the chocolate?” Her eyes were wide, like a child waiting on a special treat.

“I did.” Said Eve. She pulled out a big bar of luxury chocolate from one of the paper bags. Villanelle’s grin spread from ear to ear as Eve handed it to her.

She snatched the bar, unwrapped it and took a bite before Eve could notice the uneaten sandwich sitting on a plate on the coffee table. “You didn’t eat your lunch?” Eve frowned, picking up the plate.

“Wasn’t hungry.” Villanelle answered with a mouthful of chocolate. She had another bite even as Eve shook her head at her.

“You’re healing. You need to eat proper food. At least make sure you’re drinking plenty of water.” Eve fetched her a bottle from the fridge once she finished putting away the shopping. She wasn’t the world’s greatest cook, but she’d bought enough groceries to cook fresh meals for two for a week.

There was a blender in the kitchen. Eve didn’t drink a lot of smoothies, but she had picked up fresh fruit and orange juice to make them for Villanelle. The extra vitamins and minerals would be good for her. Eve needed Villanelle to heal as fast possible.

Niko called again while she was at the supermarket. She’d repeated the lie she told Elena about needing space. Eve promised she would be home in a week. That gave her seven days to get Villanelle back on her feet.

“Eve, you are not my mother.” Villanelle rolled her eyes at her, still devouring the chocolate bar. “If you were, then the thoughts I have about you while masturbating would be very wrong.”

Her candour caught Eve off guard. The older woman abruptly changed the subject. “Who were you speaking to? On the phone.”

Villanelle enjoyed seeing Eve flustered. She appreciated the pink flush of her cheeks, which only made her mind wander to other ways she might make Eve Polastri blush.

She spared Eve any more embarrassment and declined to share her ideas with her, choosing instead to answer her question. “Luca, my physical therapist. He is coming here next week to help me get back on my feet.”

“Good. That’s good… I can stay for a week, but after that I need to go home.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a life there, Oksana. I have a marriage and a mortgage-”

“Sounds boring.” Said Villanelle. She scrunched her face up to show her distaste for Eve’s answer. “Luca is Italian. Have you ever been to Italy? Rome is beautiful. I’ll take you. We can go to the Coliseum-”

“Oksana, I’m not going to Rome with you.” Eve sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.

“Okay. Venice then? Sex on a gondola is tricky, but fun.” Villanelle leered suggestively. Eve sighed. Talking to the assassin was hard work. She held the attention span of an overexcited four-year-old.

“Oksana, I am going home to London in seven days. Your therapist can take over from there.”

“Fine. Leave. It’s not like I’m in this predicament because you stabbed me or anything.” Villanelle huffed. “Oh wait, you did!” She gave Eve a pointed stare as she crossed her arms over her chest in a sulk.

“I did, and I said I’m sorry already!” Eve threw her hands up. “I’m trying to help you, but I can’t stay here indefinitely! I need to go back. You know that, right? Oksana?”

The other woman carried on sulking.

Eve gave up trying. She picked up a book she’d left on the armchair and skulked off into the bedroom, closing the sliding door behind her. Villanelle could stew for a while.

She sank onto Villanelle’s plush bed, tucking her legs underneath her as she settled in with the book. It was a tawdry romance novel she had bought in the airport in Russia. Not her usual read, but at the time she had needed a distraction. Eve again found herself with the same need to be distracted from thinking about Villanelle.

It worked.

Hours passed without Eve noticing. One moment the afternoon sun was shining through the bedroom window and the next Eve had to turn on a lamp to see the page. She rubbed at her eyes and stretched before checking on Villanelle.

She was still on the sofa, huddled under the bronze throw. The water Eve had left for her was unopened. Eve bit her lip. It wasn’t worth starting another fight.

“Is pasta okay again for dinner?” Eve flipped on the light. Villanelle let out a shallow groan. She shifted, dragging the throw over her head. She didn‘t sound good. “Oksana?”

Eve walked over and tugged the blanket away. Villanelle looked a mess. Her hair stuck to her head with sweat and her pallor had turned sickly. “Oksana?” Eve repeated. Leaning over the other woman she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“It is freezing.” Villanelle grumbled, pulling the throw back up to her chin. “Did you open a window or something?”

“You’re running a fever. Did you take your antibiotics?”

“You did not give me them.” She answered in a low moan.

“Fuck. Just stay there.” Eve rushed into the kitchen and fetched the bottle of pills. She helped ease Villanelle up, so she was sitting upright.

Villanelle swallowed two dry, then took a long gulp from the water bottle Eve handed her. She was warm to the touch. Eve’s side - where Villanelle was leaning against her - was burning hot. Sweat soaked the back of her shirt.

“You should have shouted for me.” Eve helped her lie down then went back to the kitchen to fetch a damp cloth. Villanelle protested the sudden cold. She tried swatting Eve’s hand away as she pressed the cloth to her cheeks. “Stop fighting me. I’m trying to help you!”

She dabbed at the sides of Villanelle’s neck before moving the cold-compress to lie on her forehead. “That’s it.” She soothed as Villanelle stopped resisting her. “Good girl. We need to break the fever. That’s it.”

Once she had her settled Eve sat coaxing her to drink more water while she looked up how to manage a fever online. “It says a tepid bath might help.”

“Ya ne znayu chto eto znachit…” Said Villanalle, slipping back into her native tongue. The pain and the fever had to be bad for her to be speaking Russian.

“Sweetheart, I don’t understand. You need to speak English.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“English, Oksana. You spoke in Russian. I couldn’t understand.”

“I don’t know what that means! That’s what I said! What is tepid?” Villanelle growled.

“Uh, lukewarm. Not too hot.”

“Okay.” Villanelle nodded. “But you will need to help me.” Eve was too concerned with the fever to put much thought into what ‘helping’ her in the bath might entail.

Eve went off to draw the bath, leaving Villanelle writhing on the sofa. It took ten minutes to fill the tub. Eve tested the water with her elbow, like you would check a baby’s bathwater. It was about right.

She fetched Villanelle from the living room. The walk back to the bathroom seemed to take an eternity as the pair shuffled at a snail’s pace. Villanelle slumped onto the toilet, sitting there while Eve checked the water again.

“That should be okay. I’ll come check on you in about fifteen minutes, okay?” Eve moved for the door. Villanelle made a pathetic grab for her wrist.   
  
“Wait. How am I supposed to get in?” She pulled up her shirt to display the small white patch of bandage taped to her stomach.

“Shit.” Eve hadn’t considered the logistics of getting her in and out of the tub. She rubbed at her forehead, trying to come up with options that didn’t include her seeing Villanelle naked.

None came to her.

Villanelle peeled off the bandage, revealing red and puffy flesh around the tight black stitches. A hint of yellow puss seeped from one. “Fuck. That is gross.” She prodded at it, wincing from the pain.

“Stop that!” Eve snapped at her. She was at the end of her rope and faced with undressing the obnoxious - yet striking - young assassin. “Okay. Let’s get your shirt off first.”

“I knew you were a boob woman.” Villanelle let out a giddy laugh as she lifted her arms above her head, allowing Eve to peel her shirt off. Eve ignored her. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

Eve finally had a view of the modest, pert breasts that had been so instrumental in identifying Villanelle. The other woman rested her hands on Eve’s shoulders - keeping herself steady - while she undressed her.

“This is not how I imagined being naked with you.” Villanelle grumbled while Eve helped her step into the tub. She sat with a groan, the water lapping at her feverish skin. “I figured you would be naked too.”

“In your dreams.” Came Eve’s gruff reply.

“Frequently.”

Eve bit the inside of her cheek. “I’ll go get you something clean to change in to. Will you be okay for a minute?” Villanelle nodded so Eve did just that.

Retreating into the bedroom she stood with her back to the wall and covered her face with her hands. She felt the overwhelming need to scream at the top of her lungs. It passed after a minute.

She set about finding something for Villanelle to wear. There was an oversized shirt in one of her dresser drawers. That would have to do.

Villanelle lay slumped in the tub when Eve went back into the bathroom. Her eyes were closed. The water line was up to her chin. “Oksana?”

“Hmm?” She opened her eyes to look at Eve. They were a touch more focused than they had been earlier and some colour had come back to her cheeks.

Eve placed the bed-shirt on the sink, carefully avoiding looking at the other woman. She sat with her back against the bathtub “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Villanelle sighed. There was a splashing sound as she sat forward. “Will you wash my hair?”   
“Uh…”

“Please?” Came a pathetic whine from behind her. “I can’t do it myself. It hurts.”

_It hurts._

“Okay.” Eve stood up slowly, delaying the inevitable. She wrung her hands together, still facing the bathroom door.

“You know you will have to turn around at some point, yes?”  
“Yeah. I got that.”

There was more splashing as Villanelle shifted, bringing her knees up to her chest. “It’s okay. You can look. I’m decent.”

“That’s debatable.” Eve muttered to herself.

She turned and found Villanelle sitting up in a foetal position with her arms wrapped around her knees. Eve reached for the shampoo bottle. It had a pleasant fruity scent. She squeezed some into her hand then massaged it into Villanelle’s scalp. The other woman let out a contented moan, arching her slender neck back.

“That feels so good. I would love to run my fingers through your hair.”

“Thanks, but I doubt you’ll be in any condition to do your own hair for a while, never mind mine.”

“Then it is a good thing you are here.” She looked back at Eve with a sly grin. “Why don’t you join me? There is plenty of room.”

“I’ll pass, thanks. Lie down.”

Villanelle did. Stretching out with a wince she lay down, submerging the back of her head in the water. As Eve knelt to rinse the shampoo from her hair, she snuck a quick glance at the younger woman’s lithe body.

She looked like a Greek Goddess carved from stone. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her; no stretch marks or cellulite. She was a stunning young woman in her prime. Eve felt a surge of envy.

Until she spotted the angry red mark on her stomach. The imperfection that Eve had given her. She averted her gaze, focusing solely on the task at hand.   
  
Villanelle needed help to get back up. Eve had to lean into the bath and hook her hands under her armpits to sit her up and get her out of the tub. It left her shirt soaked through, and Villanelle pressed naked against her front. A thin white line ran across Villanelle’s right shoulder blade. Eve traced it with the tip of her finger. “How did you get this?” She asked.

“Someone stabbed me.” Said Villanelle, matter-of-factly. Eve’s motions stilled. “What? Are you upset you weren’t my first?” Eve didn’t answer. She grabbed a towel from the radiator. When she turned back Villanelle was standing facing her.

She stood proudly. No hint of shame or self-doubt in her expression. Eve was like a deer caught in headlights. Villanelle reached out, teasing one of Eve’s curls between her fingers. “You are the only person alive who has stabbed me.”

The connotation was clear.

Eve had a million questions. She wanted to ask who and when, and how and why, but all she could do was stare at a droplet of water as it ran down her collarbone and then dipped between her breasts.

Villanelle’s smile was positively predatory.

She stepped forward, tilting her head as she leaned in to kiss the other woman. Eve closed her eyes. For half a second Villanelle thought Eve might let it happen; until she threw the towel she was holding straight at Villanelle’s head in blind panic.

She rushed from the room.

Villanelle ripped the towel off her head, bewildered by what just happened. She dried herself off and pulled on the oversized bed shirt that Eve had picked out for her.

By the time she walked into the adjoining bedroom she found Eve slumped forward on her bed, her face buried in her hands. She looked up as Villanelle purposefully cleared her throat. “You threw a towel in my face.”

“I panicked.” Said Eve.

Villanelle gave a shrug of her slender shoulders as she sat down beside Eve. “I suppose it’s an improvement on stabbing me.”

“I’m straight, Oksana. I don’t like you in that way…”

“Okay.” The younger woman appeared to take the rejection in her stride. That in itself should have set off alarm bells. Villanelle leaned in closer. “So prove it. Let me kiss you.”

“What?” Eve recoiled, shifting back to put distance between them. “That makes absolutely no sense.”  
“It makes perfect sense.” Argued Villanelle.

“Let me kiss you, and if you have no feelings for me then I will know.” She looked so sure of herself. Eve wanted to punch her in the face.

“That’s insane logic. I’m not kissing you.” Eve shook her head, her loose curls bouncing on her shoulders.   
“I didn’t say you had to. I will kiss you. It is up to you whether you kiss me back. I think you will.”

“No. I won’t.” Said Eve.

“Then prove it. Let me kiss you… Unless you are scared I am right?” Her tone was light and teasing, but there was a dark undertone to it; a challenge.

“Fine!” Eve threw her hands in the air. “Fine, just to shut you up and prove you wrong!” Villanelle broke out in a massive grin and bolted forward.

Eve put her hand out to stop her. “Wait. We need ground rules.”   
“Ground rules?” Villanelle repeated the words with a frown. “For a kiss?”

“Yes. First, it’s just a kiss. No funny business, okay?”  
“Scouts honour.” The Russian gave her a mock salute. Eve already regretted agreeing to her insane proposal.

Eve let out a heavy sigh as she let her hand drop. “Are the scouts even a thing in Russia?”  
“Yes.” Villanelle nodded.   
“Oh. Were you one?”

“Ah… no.” The younger woman flashed her a cheeky smile as Eve ran her fingers through her hair in exasperation.   
“Okay, moving on. You get thirty seconds and I don’t have to kiss you back!”

“Sixy seconds.” Countered Villanelle.   
“Thirty.”   
“Forty-five-”

“I changed my mind!” Eve went to stand. Villanelle tugged on her sleeve.  
“Fine! Thirty seconds.” She relented.

Eve sat back down and adjusted her skirt. She flicked her hair back and wet her lips with her tongue. “Okay. Thirty seconds.” That was all the encouragement Villanelle needed.

She tilted her head and leaned in. Her lips barely grazed Eve’s before the other woman closed her eyes. Villanelle bit back a smirk. She loved being right.

She pressed a single kiss to the side of Eve’s mouth, then another against her lips. Her hands were shaking as they reached up, one finding the back of Eve’s neck and the other burying itself in her hair. She tugged hard enough to make Eve gasp. Villanelle ran her tongue over Eve’s bottom lip before trapping it between her teeth and lightly nipping it.

She felt the other woman shudder under her touch; right before Eve’s lips parted and she began to kiss back. After a minute Villanelle forced herself to pull back, grinning from ear to ear. “How many seconds was that?”

Villanelle forced herself to pull back, grinning from ear to ear. “How many seconds was that?” Her cocksure attitude backfired as Eve stood suddenly. With her fingers pressed against her lips she stammered something about making a mistake and rushed out the room. “Wait! Eve! Fuck…” Villanelle rose slowly and trailed after her.

She found the older woman pacing the length of the living room, her hand over her mouth as if she might scream if she removed it. Villanelle came to a stop resting against the armchair and holding her side. She watched Eve, aware she was balancing perilously on a knife’s edge. “Eve, calm down. It’s okay-”

“Okay?” Said Eve. “Okay?! Nothing about this is okay! I’m married! You… You cost me two jobs! You killed my friend! God, this is so far from okay…” Eve ran her fingers through her hair, tugging at the ends as she continued pacing. She looked like a woman possessed.

Villanelle pushed on. “None of that changes the truth. You like me.” Eve stopped in front of her, her expression pained.

“I shouldn’t.”

“But you do.” Villanelle stepped forward, raising a hand she brushed one of Eve’s wild tresses back from her face. She didn’t kiss her again. Villanelle knew how far she could push her luck; and she had pushed Eve far enough for one night.

Taking a step back she kept hold of her side. “I need a clean dressing.” Eve shook her head, as if shaking herself out of Villanelle’s thrall.

“I’ll do it.” She said.

Villanelle returned to the bedroom and took a seat on the bed while Eve fetched the well-stocked first-aid kit from the bathroom. She made a face as Eve pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “I need to clean it. It’ll get infected otherwise.” Eve dabbed the bottle onto a wad of clean gauze, while Villanelle lay down and pulled up her shirt so it sat just below her breasts, exposing her stomach. She reached out, grabbing Eve’s free hand in her own.

Eve hesitated with the gauze hovering over the stitched wound. She gave Villanelle a weary, sideways glance. “Promise you won’t kill me?”

“Get on with it.” Villanelle gritted her teeth and stared up at the ceiling. Eve did as she asked, pressing the gauze firmly against her injured side.

“Fuuuuck!” Villanelle screamed out, her grip on Eve’s hand becoming painfully tight. She was breathing in and out in sharp rasps.

“It’s okay…” Eve shushed, pulling the gauze back. She tossed it aside and picked up a clean dressing. She had to wriggle her hand free to apply it. Villanelle was still whimpering as she taped the dressing in place.

Leaning over the younger woman, Eve held her face with both hands. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s over. It’s done. Shh…” Villanelle arched in to her touch, pressing her forehead against Eve’s as she tried to calm her breathing.

Eve climbed onto the bed, lying down beside her and stroking her cheek long after Villanelle had become calm again. She placed a hand over Eve’s, cupping it against her cheek. “Stay with me. Here. Tonight.”

“Okay.” Eve relented with a nod. “But just for tonight.”


End file.
